


Take Out, Weigh In

by MySoCalledAngst



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: F/M, I don;t know where this came from but BOOM THERE IT IS, I wouldn't sat OOC because I really like to believe this is them outside the hospital, Mild Smut, if you don't you can fight me irl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6761641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MySoCalledAngst/pseuds/MySoCalledAngst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wrestling always ends in something else, Neal. How could you possibly think I’d lose with such an inevitable end?” </p>
<p>A battle of wit, mind, body, and soul... all over what to get delivered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Out, Weigh In

**Author's Note:**

> I've being trying to write my other stories and attempting to write an angsty dramatic Christeal story. But literally everything I've written lately just feels like garbage. I've literally written pages worth of stuff just to delete it because I hate it.
> 
> So, roughly thirty pages worth of failure produced this little fic to cleanse my palette of the trash.

“Take out?” Neal asked as he fiddled with the lock for a second, key jamming as always before being able to enter their home. She hummed in agreement, happy to finally be at home after thirty six hours of stress.

 

It was a rare night, when they both got off at six in the evening. A rare… _happy_ night that the couple planned to make the most of. Christa took Neal’s backpack for him and he kissed her forehead as thanks before heading to his menu drawer.

 

“I was thinking Thai.” Christa called, pulling the hair tie from its place as she walked into the bedroom, hoping to get out of her jeans as soon as five minutes ago. She placed their backpacks side by side just beside the closet door. Digging through the top drawer, she found her favorite pajama set; loose shorts and a tank top in a pastel pink. She loved pajamas that kept her cool.

 

“I’m not feeling Thai,” he grumbled, distaste evident in his tone “, _I_ was thinking something greasy and American.” He called back with a laugh. Christa emerged from behind the small wall that kept the loft somewhat separated, a look of distaste upon her features.

 

“We had burgers for lunch yesterday.” She used her faux pout, one hand ruffling her loose hair and the other rubbing her stomach.

 

Neal huffed, fanning out the plethora on menus upon the counter.

 

“Then Pizza?” He said, following Christa’s example and heading to change.

 

“Pizza is _Italian_ ,” She yelled, looking through the menus with disinterest, pulling the Thai menu aside “, Pizza is _also_ not Thai!”

 

“Italian, which was thus adopted by American culture.” He yelled back, a light hearted tone to his voice. Christa grinned.

 

“I’m not arguing the historic reaping of cultures, I’m arguing that Thai is awesome and _we_ should get Thai.”

 

“We only like Pad Thai and it’s so bad us. I’ve gained five pounds since I started taking your take out suggestions regularily.” He said, walking up behind her and placing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

 

“Like pizza isn’t bad for you?” Christa looked at him with furrowed brows, waving the Thai menu in his face.

 

He groaned, dramatically and dragged it out far longer than he needed to. Christa couldn’t help but laugh. It was always nice to get him home; he was a completely different person outside of the hospital. He placed one hand on the counter, leaning in close as to kiss her. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes, but instead of the warm inviting touch of his kiss…

 

“ _I don’t want Thai_.” Neal whispered.

 

“ _I don’t care_.” She whispered back, pulling him in for a quick kiss before pushing him away.

 

The pair stared each other down, just like an Arizona ranger and Texas Red. She tapped her polished fingernails against the counter as he leaned against the supporting beam she had bumped her head on when she first came here.

 

“Let’s play for it.” Christa posed, her thin eyebrow raised.

 

“Play what?” Neal was intrigued and she could tell. He always pursed his lips when he heard a good idea.

 

“Coin flip?” She shrugged.

 

“Over used.”

 

“Deck of cards, whoever picks the highest card wins?” They had watched Friends on Netflix together and it was the only reason she even had the idea.

 

“No,” Neal crossed his arms and tapped his foot “, something _better_.”

 

“Then _please oh please_ , let me in on your brilliant idea.” Christa’s voice wasn’t sarcastic or angry. The feeling between the two was nothing but good fun, and the feeling rose, as Neal grinned a mischievous grin.

 

“Let’s _wrestle_ for it.” Neal kept his grin smeared upon his face, chocolate brown eyes watching as she made an expression born from disbelief.

 

“Are you six?! You have three inches and like… _fifty_ pounds on me!” She was being dramatic, but he was strong. Christa could never stop looking at his flexing arm muscles.

 

“Come now, I’ll give you a head start. You can start on top.” He stepped forward and patted her shoulder with a faux condescending nature. Neal _knew_ he was going to win because he _knew_ Christa didn’t take pity handicaps.

 

“I’m not wrestling you for take out.” Christa said with a deadpan tone.

 

“Then we’re getting pizza. Because you’re to chicken to wrestle me.” Neal made a grab for the phone, but soon felt Christa’s tight grip upon his arm.

 

“Fine. But _when_ I win, you have to eat whatever take out I suggest whenever we get take out for the whole month. And if by some _abysmal_ chance you win… same.” Christa proposed her deal. Neal shook her offered hand and followed Christa to the bedroom with a smirk on his face.

 

“Do you want that head start I was talking about? I know you might need it, with my _three_ inches and _fifty_ pounds.” Neal boasted. Christa held up both her hands, middle fingers up. He ‘ooooh’d at her confidence, both of them standing at the foot of the bed.

 

“So… want me to count to three or?” Neal said, looking down at Christa with a shit eating grin. There was amusement in her eyes, but Neal knew he poked the bear. Be it checkers or some card game, Christa was _violently_ competitive when she wanted to be.

 

Without warning, Christa used her weight to force him back onto the bed. He let out a laugh before struggling against her, making a big deal as he pretended to get pinned. She was laughing too as she mounted him, using a tight grip to keep his arms at his sides.

 

“Say you want Thai!” Christa said, preparing for his assault, as Neal was awfully relaxed under her grip.

 

“I’m good on the Thai front,” he shrugged, easily flipped Christa on her back “, I think you should tell me just how _much_ you want pizza.”

 

“I’ll get my Thai food, even if it means the delivery guy stepping over your dead body.” Christa tried to seem menacing, but her damned smile kept creeping upon her face. Neal couldn’t help but smile in response, and while Christa was overwhelmed with feelings of love for this man… there was a _fight_ to win.

 

Christa struggled against his tight grip and Neal barely had to move to keep her beneath him. He was poised over her abdomen, holding her arms at her elbows as she desperately fought against his grip.

 

“Ouch!” She cried, looking up her elbow with sad eyes.

 

Neal immediately pulled his hands away from her arms, moving them to either side of her face. Guilt manifested itself within his chest; leaning down as he gave her a few pecks on the forehead.

 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He said, stroking her soft cheek.

 

“No… I’m sorry.” She whispered, wrapping her arms tight around his body and rolling them over, his head dangling over the edge of the bed. His frustration tied with the fun of the situation left him a little red in the face.

 

“How _dare you_ use my own feelings for you against me.” He whispered, eyes narrowing as she glared at her. This time, it was Christa who wore a shit eating grin. As Neal went to retaliate, she dropped a hand down behind his head, playing with his hair using a gentle touch.

 

“Wrestling _always_ ends in some _thing_ else, Neal. How could you _possibly_ think I’d lose with such an inevitable end?” Christa smiled, gently wiggling her hips as she sat up, both of her hands upon his chest. Neal looked down at her body; her shorts were far too short to be legal… that tank top far too tight to be allowed to have been manufactured.

 

Demanding hands gripped his tee-shirt as she pulled him up, lips feverously on one another in an instant. Christa kept control, grinding against the hard mass already presenting itself to her. Neal’s hands stayed low, rubbing against her thighs, and every so often, he would rake his nails down her soft flesh to earn a grateful moan.

 

Christa ordered him to move and Neal obliged, resting himself against the headboard as Christa so instructed. His quick obedience earned him a hungry kiss. Dominant Christa didn’t come out to play often, but he sure as hell wanted to get to know her better.

 

Wrestling match already long gone in their mind, Christa was pulling at his shirt. He let her do as she please with no complaints, letting his cheeks become flush and even his comfortable sweatpants become too tight for the liking. With the blue garment discarded, her warm lips went to work down his neck and chest. She left playful bites that always elicited a gentle gasping moan every few inches, Christa’s hands eagerly falling to the hem of his sweatpants.

 

She tortured him, hands slowly toying with the tie keeping his pants from falling, making her breasts rubbed against his dick through the fabric as she nibbled just above his belly button.

 

Her blue eyes gazed up at him, full of lust and need, only to have it come shattering down around her.

 

_Neal was on the phone._

 

“Yeah, we’ll have one large pepperoni with,” He leaned away from the phone and looked to her “, _green peppers?”_ He whispered, trying to keep the laughter inside.

 

Christa stared for a moment.

 

“Yeah, green pepper sounds good.”


End file.
